


Truly Beautiful

by 37h4n0l



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, hello i wrote something fucking harsh, look i dont know and i dont wanna go into it, maybe some lowkey worship kink kinda thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: Victor's performances are /exciting/.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm gonna have very few contributions to this fandom, but here is one. As always, it's absolute garbage. Because I ship the only thing that has no realistic chance of happening. Amazing. You can congratulate me then print this thing out 20 times, push it down my throat and suffocate me with it.

Victor’s skating truly is beautiful.

 

Yuri doesn’t remember how long it has been since he found out about him and started obsessing over him, but there’s anecdotal stories about his mania when he was a little kid. It must have been a long time. Of course, then he got to know the real Victor and the moment arrived when he had to delete the pictures on his phone and pack up his poster collection in some remote corner of his room. Pack up an not throw away - because he likes looking at them, despite having to pretend he doesn’t. He wonders if another fan of Victor’s would act the same way, hide in shame and put up a tough face, or if it’s just him being so pitiful.

 

But more than the posters, he Yuri likes seeing Victor on TV, and his heart skips a beat every time he’s surfing channels and he accidentally spots his idol. He looks so detached and almost beyond this world that Yuri is prompted to forget they’ve met in person. That magic is more subtle in person, it hides well behind Victor’s calm demeanor along with the tiredness. His energy seems to come back only the moment his skate touches the ice, barely, as if he’s flying above it. 

 

Yuri’s eyes go wide as he forgets to breathe during the evening of the Grand Prix Final - and many other evenings, in fact. He often watches from his room, not even the small and slightly blurry screen of his TV ruining the experience. He prays his grandfather doesn’t enter, though, because that most certainly would. 

 

If someone didn’t know Victor was a skater when meeting him, they would probably miss out on an entire side of him. It’s an unreachable level of perfection, something Yuri knows he, himself will never achieve despite all his efforts, and yet he will keep trying out of reverence. Victor does a flip on the screen and Yuri is anxious, even though he  _ knows _ it will turn out perfect, a bit like children’s movies that all have a happy ending but are exciting nonetheless. It goes as expected, perfect and gracious. Despite the camera not zooming on his face, Yuri can see the ease in his expression, his blue eyes half-lidded and at peace. Victor’s hair isn’t long anymore; he had a change in image in the past year and cut it short. That light blonde colour hinting at silver is barely visible anymore.

 

Yuri finds himself wondering about things that go beyond the limits of a healthy admiration. In fact, he’s glad those  _ things _ only occur in his head with no real life repercussion. Victor glides across the ice, movements smoother than any kind of dance, and for a second Yuri ponders on whether these are the only moments when he’s really himself. He’s a world champion, so naturally, the sport must mean something to him, but at this point, Victor is one with his skating. His skating is him and he is his skating. But Yuri’s mind is ultimately swayed from what he sees concretely, because what if Victor let this side of him come out on other occasions too? This pure, cold, perfect and ruthless side of him? Yuri furrows his brows, disapproving of himself as he’s not concentrating on the performance at all anymore.

 

Victor would treat his lovers like he treats the ice, bruising their body and soul gently, just like his blades leave a barely perceptible mark as he skates. With the same grace exhibited by his movements he would sweettalk them, fill their heads with cryptic words that sound like poetry until they are deciphered, and then all that’s left is cruel amusement, intrigue at most. He’d be in control. He’d hold the reins so firmly he wouldn’t need intimidation tactics. Being touched by Victor would be a favour on his part, it would be like being touched by a god who has no patience for neediness. 

 

Yuri gasps, covering his mouth quickly to prevent more sounds from escaping him. His hand is trembling as it grips his cock; he’s still reluctant, because he should be thinking about a girl in this moment, and because Victor is his senior and his role model and this is fucked-up beyond repair. Then he rethinks and curls up a corner of his mouth in defeat - no woman, no  _ anything _ compares to Victor, he’s on a different level of existence altogether. Yuri imagines his cold fingers - maybe he’d run them through his hair as an illusion of being considerate, - they’d be freezing and almost lifeless from the low temperature in the ice rink. Still, Victor’s grip would be firm - Yuri squeezes himself harder and whimpers into his other hand, trying to imagine a bigger palm instead of his own, with fingers more spindly and long. 

 

He’d let Victor do whatever. At this point, he has learned that sometimes he has to compromise on his pride to succeed, and he’s positive that dignity would be the least of his worries if his idol so much as cast a suggestive glance at him. Scenarios fill his head as he strokes his cock faster and faster, scenarios of Victor pulling him to a side after practice when everyone left, only to push him against a wall and smile along so peacefully with the force of the shove. Or he’d step behind him in the changing room and wrap an arm around him, reminding him faux-casually how there’s no one there to hear them. 

 

Yuri would let Victor molest him, tease him in public and embarrass him, and he’d get off on feeling abused, like he’s getting off on it now. The drops of precum on his hand are proof enough. He feels sick of himself and he knows he won’t be able to look the other man in the eye for a while, but right now all his thoughts are directed at the imaginary presence of Victor’s body around and inside of his. Yuri feels himself approaching his orgasm, so he thinks of the most obscene thing to cross his mind. Victor grabbing him by the hips and entering him, nails digging into his skin. He’d fuck him from behind, not caring much about seeing Yuri’s face. His breathing would speed up, but he wouldn’t even groan or let out a sound. He’d lack commitment entirely. Yuri, on the other hand, would be a mess, sobbing and begging, and Victor would grant his wish, but only as much as it satisfies him as well. And it would be even colder and more methodical than the measured force in his quads, and he’d smile and be brutal and crude at the same time, and  _ God _ , Yuri can almost feel the breaths behind his nape, feel the cock in his ass, hear the whispers -  _ Yuretchka, Yuretchka, are you feeling good?  _ \- and Victor is  _ everywhere _ and Victor is  _ everything _ -...

 

Yuri comes, blinking away an inadvertent tear of frustration, semen splattering on his bedsheets. He keeps jerking off, remaining in bliss for as long as he can - better make the best out of the situation since he’s sunk to such a low. The audience on TV is clapping. Victor - the actual one, not Yuri’s fictitious lover - is getting incredible scores, he broke his own record once again. Yuri forgets about cleaning up for a few minutes, his eyes fixated on the screen. Victor is an admirable person, his skating truly is beautiful. He raises his medal in victory on the podium, and he gives a short interview a few moments later. His skin is glistening with sweat in an incredibly human way, he looks absolutely exhausted but in a good mood nonetheless.  _ Content _ , Yuri thinks as he turns off the TV,  _ normal _ . The real Victor, so much more ordinary than he likes to imagine him and so  _ infinitely _ far away from everything Yuri could ever be.


End file.
